


Baptized By Fire

by Jokers_Sanity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelcest, Angelic Grace, M/M, Making Up, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Reconciliation, Reconciliation Sex, Rejection, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Torture, a/b/o dynamics, soul mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokers_Sanity/pseuds/Jokers_Sanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your name shall be Oralee." Michael said, "'The Lord is my light... a fitting name for the daughter of the Morning Star."</p><p>He felt his soul mark burn at the mention of his daughter, born outside of his soul bond. Correction: rejected soul bond. Sam hadn't been interested in claiming the 'borderline psychotic bitch in heat', as Michael had so eloquently put it. And Michael had been just vindictive enough to show him what he was missing.</p><p>or,</p><p>The one where Sam finally accepts that he and Lucifer are two halves of the same whole and hopes that it isn't too late to fix his epic screw-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Additional trigger warnings for mentions of the abuse Lucifer endured, without going into too much detail. Still, mentions of rape/non-con elements and active torture. Be warned.

There were times when Lucifer cursed his anatomy - that the other demons would look on him as  _lesser_ because he was a male bearer. A male bearer that was soul-bonded to a human, and a  _Winchester_ at that. 

Not that that had mattered, when push came to shove. 

A newborn infant squirmed in Lucifer's arms, a small patch of thick, dark curls on her little head. Blue eyes just a hair darker than his own were reduced to slits as her face contorted with the beginnings of a wail. It was amazing, how much sound could come out of such a tiny body. This little angel, that  _he_ had brought into the world, who had his eyes and his nose and his mouth -

The baby was cruelly snatched out of Lucifer's arms, bundled in what looked to be the remains of Sam's t-shirt, and pressed to the chest of her other parent. The elation he'd felt a moment before slowly began to dissipate when Michael turned his back on him, bouncing the baby in an attempt to soothe her. He should've known better. For a moment, he was able to forget... but Michael would never trust him with such grave responsibility.

Her conception was a mistake, after all. Just as Lucifer, himself, was a mistake.

"Your name shall be Oralee." Michael said, "'The Lord is my light... a fitting name for the daughter of the Morning Star."

He felt his soul mark  _burn_ at the mention of his daughter, born outside of his soul bond. Correction:  _rejected_ soul bond. Sam hadn't been interested in claiming the 'borderline psychotic bitch in heat', as Michael had so eloquently put it. And Michael had been just vindictive enough to show him what he was missing.

If he'd thought that being forcibly bred by his brother in front of his soulmate was bad, he obviously hadn't prepared himself for the inevitability of the child's birth.

Michael would take the child, Lucifer had never doubted that. Honestly, he was amazed his elder brother had let it live so long... but then, Michael had always been a touch sadistic. He'd enjoyed watching Lucifer grow attached to the child, knowing that the ultimate devastation of ripping her from his arms would be that much sweeter if he actually  _cared_ about the fledgling. 

Lucifer looked down at the ground between them, nudging Sam's motionless body with his toe. "They'll be coming for him soon."

"He'll take your little mistake with him." Michael said, fingers dancing lightly over the baby's naked belly. "She'll grow up to be some sort of hideous abomination... a danger to those around her... and when that day comes, I will take great delight in watching the Winchester brothers end her miserable life."

Lucifer, still weak from the birth, found that most of the fight had been drained out of him. "Why couldn't she stay here, with me? She'd be safe -,"

A sigh, "That would be like rewarding you for bad behavior, my dear, sweet  _little brother_." Michael hummed. "Can't have that, now, can we?"

His daughter had quieted, and was now looking between them with curiosity in her cold blue eyes. He thinks that she'll be beautiful when she's older, not that he'll ever get the chance to see it happen. How could something so precious, so  _innocent_ grow into an  _abomination?_

The answer is simple: Because she is his daughter. 

Lucifer had no reason to try and keep Sam in Hell. The rejected bond burned hotter than the fires of Hell, his short, blunt nails dragging over the elegant script, distorting it with beads of blood so dark they were almost black. His vessel was being held together with paperclips and bubblegum, his true vessel battered and broken on the floor.

And none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Even if, by some miracle (and he'd stopped believing in miracles  _long_ ago), Sam came around to accept their bond, it would never be the same. Something had been taken from him, something that couldn't be replaced. The child Michael cradled in his arms was evidence to that. For years, he'd saved himself for the soulmate that didn't want him. And now Michael had taken that from him as well. 

He could sense the shift in power long before their little brother made his presence known. Michael placed the infant on Sam's chest, wrapping his arms around the babe securely. She gave a small cry of displeasure, but quieted when a brilliant beam of light sliced into the darkness of the Cage.

When the light dispersed, both Sam and the baby were gone.

Lucifer was remarkably docile, watching his daughter disappear. It tore away at him, but he'd become used to pain. Accepted it as the natural consequence of reigning over Hell. Perhaps he'd accepted that she was safer in the arms of his would-be mate, than at the mercy of his unpredictable brother - a being with a vendetta, and all the time in the world to get even with the one he blamed for fucking up the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't... and everything else that had ever gone wrong in Creation. 

He was so absorbed by his thoughts, he didn't notice the way that Michael had begun rolling up his sleeves. "I know that you're going to enjoy this, little masochist that you are." He took a step forward, grinning darkly, "I'm just going to have to try and enjoy it more."

And with that, he shoved his hand through the chest of Lucifer's vessel and touched the scar that had formed over where Lucifer's Grace had once been.

* * *

Sam awoke in a field to the sound of a baby screaming.

There was a pounding ache just behind his eyes, the kind that came after one too many rounds or an ill-fated all-nighter. He forced his eyes open, realizing that he was no longer in the Cage, but in a field about a mile away from Lisa's house. And he was holding a baby. 

Why was he holding a baby, again?

The kid didn't seem all to thrilled about it either, if her wailing was any indication. She was small... so  _small_... and pink and wrinkly and she looked more like a Sphinx cat than a newborn angel. And she was very, _very_ naked. Sam sat up, tucking the infant closer to his chest as the wind picked up around them. 

Something is missing inside of him that he cannot identify. It's like an ache, which dulls slightly when he looks into those perfect baby blue eyes... but never completely goes away. Those eyes look so familiar, but he can't place a name. In fact, he couldn't remember anything after crash-landing in the Cage, where Lucifer was forcibly ejected from his body. Lucifer... _Lucifer_...

His arm _burned_ as an elegant black script stretched out over his forearm. The word glowed red as it seared into his skin, before settling. A single word: Lucifer.

He looked at the baby, who'd suddenly quieted. _Oh fuck._  

 


	2. The Soul-Bond

First order of business, the baby needed clothes. 

In the meantime, he'd used his leather jacket as a sort of swaddling cloth, wrapping her as tightly as he dared. The child didn't seem too terribly fond of the material, if her constant squirming was any indication... but it would have to do. 

Probing his brain for further information about... well, _anything_ really, proved to be disastrous. He knew that he was Sam Winchester, that he was Lucifer's true vessel, and that after the cataclysmic failure that was the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, Lucifer had been forced from his body. After that, everything went dark.

Looking down at the tiny baby in his arms, he wished he better understood his connection to her. Up until the soul mark appeared, she'd been screaming bloody murder. But once the elegant black script had been seared into his skin, she had calmed almost instantly. Since then, she had squirmed quite a bit, but she hadn't cried. 

And what was the deal with her eyes?

Soon, they've reached the side of the road, the field disappearing into an ink-black abyss behind them. It wasn't long before he manages to hail a sketchy looking kid, perhaps only just old enough to actually have a license, in an equally unsavory black car. He doesn't have any of his weapons, just a Swiss Army knife that leaves him feeling uncomfortably exposed. Absent any better options, he slides into the passenger seat and shifts the suddenly docile baby in his arms. 

"So, what's a classy guy like you doin' in a place like this?" The boy chuckled, like he'd just made a joke that only he understood. He quieted suddenly when Sam fishes the knife out of his pocket, flicks it open, and jabs the blade into his jugular. 

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start driving." The boy was trembling, his face turning a fascinating shade of blue - looks like he'd forgotten how to breathe. "Now." Pressing a little harder, blood bubbled to the surface and spilled over the short blade. 

He hit the gas so hard the tires shrieked.

Sam withdrew slightly, examining his handiwork. Just a hair deeper and the boy would have a fast, albeit terrifying death. As much as the idea appealed to him, however, the resulting blood splatter would be much too messy. And there was no telling what seeing such a horrific death would do to an infant's fragile psyche.

Indiana flew by in a whirlwind of color, the needle on the speedometer edging toward ninety. The engine whined ominously, clearly not at all pleased by the strain the driver was putting upon it. But Sam didn't care. He was mesmerized by the way the boy's blood slowly inched down his neck, making intricate designs on his overly pale skin. He didn't know why, but he was overcome by the sudden desire to _hurt_ the boy, consequences be damned. 

He plunged the knife into the boy's collarbone and laughed as he screamed in pain, dark red blood quickly soaking into his plain white t-shirt. The boy was even stupid enough to try and pull the knife out, which only served to make the wound that much worse. The sight of blood quelled the aching emptiness within him... but only momentarily. Within about forty-five seconds, the boy had bled out and Sam was faced with a new problem: there was no-one driving the car.

He expected the child to start crying, but she hasn't. In fact, she seemed... _calmer_ than before. And... if he isn't mistaken... she seemed distinctly _bigger_.

Like, at least the size of a six-month-old, bigger. What the hell?

For a moment, as he stared into her mystifying blue eyes, time seemed to stand still. He completely forgot that the car was barreling down the highway to their probable doom, because he'd never seen eyes quite so blue except for... well, except for Lucifer's. 

And then the car dropped off the side of the road onto a gravel embankment, and all was well.

Sam took the boy's wallet (not like he needed it where he was going, anyhow), and yanked his knife out of the boy's shoulder. By the time he'd abandoned the car and stumbled into the nearest gas station, looking for directions into town, the baby is no longer a 'baby' at all. She's at least one-year-old, physically. And walking.

* * *

Lucifer screamed as Michael's hand slowly withdrew, his eyes rolling back in his skull as the pain temporarily overwhelmed him. He might've been the master of torture, but there wasn't a demon in hell idiotic enough to attempt to torture the devil himself. 

Besides, he much preferred fucking with people's heads. This physical torture was a whole new ballgame, one he had not adequately prepared himself for.

It took a special kind of sadist to enjoy carving people up like a thanksgiving turkey... perhaps Alistair deserved more credit...

"You know, you could have avoided all of this misery if you'd simply relinquished Sam's soul to me. No soul, no soul-bond. No soul-bond... well, I think you get the idea." Michael grinned darkly. "Honestly, I don't even understand why the Father felt you, of all his children, would be worthy of such a sacred bond."

Lucifer rolled his eyes, "What, you wanna go crying home to Daddy that Cas burned your soul mark off of Dean? It wouldn't have happened if you'd have gotten off your lazy ass and saved him yourself." He spat darkly, "You're the one that doesn't deserve such a sacred bond. You were the one that desecrated it in the first place!"

Suddenly, Michael's hand plunged back into Lucifer's chest, sinking deeper... deeper... until almost his entire forearm was submerged. "Don't you talk to me like that, bastard!"

"I'll never let you have Sam's soul." Lucifer said flatly. Whatever else he might've said was lost as Michael's fingers once again caressed his scar.

Some part of Lucifer envied his brother. It had been almost two months into Sam's year in the Cage when Michael first flaunted the fact that Lucifer and Sam were soul bonded. Sam had thought it was some kind of sick joke, the kind of mind-fuckery that Lucifer was famous for. Lucifer had never resented his soul mark until that moment. He could _feel_ Sam's ridicule pulsate through the bond, like the beat of his heart. And it hurt almost as bad as the rejection that was soon to follow.

Not surprisingly, Sam had done his research. He knew the history of the soul marks, that the Father assigned an angel to be a human's protector - literally, their other half. According to Sam, there wasn't a protective bone in Lucifer's borrowed body. He might've sworn to never lie to or trick him, but coming from the Father of Lies, these claims hardly held any merit. It was like taking a kid to a toy store and expecting them _not_ to want anything - sooner or later, he'd break his promise.

"Oh, how I wish you could've seen how utterly _pathetic_ you looked - the high and mighty Lucifer, God's favorite angel, _begging_ the soulmate that wanted _nothing_ to do with him for sex." Michael cackled, "The look of abject horror on Sam's face was absolutely beautiful."

Lucifer could picture the way Michael had poked and prodded at Sam for weeks following the would-be Apocalypse, casually offering horrific suggestions on how he could permanently harm the younger Winchester while he was unconscious. "You're a monster."

"Really?" The elder angel cocked his head to the side, "Then what does that make you?"

Lucifer didn't have an answer for that, and instead chose to remain silent. 

Michael yanked his hand back again, this time allowing it to dip down to his brother's waistband. He teased the elastic there gently, feeling the slight swell of Lucifer's significantly diminished baby bump press back against him. "Maybe I should just knock you up again. Keep you full of my fledglings till you forget about that sorry Winchester."

"I'd rather one of the Winchesters shove a demon blade up my ass, thank you." Lucifer said flatly. "I might be a bearer, but I am certainly _not_ your plaything. And you will regret testing my patience."

"Remember your place, Luci." Michael growled. " _I'm_ the one that claimed you."

Had Michael been a touch more aware, he would've noticed the terrifying gleam in Lucifer's eyes. "Ah, yes... and have I thanked you for that yet?"

Before Michael could respond, Lucifer jabbed his hand into his brother's stomach. Bright, bluish-white light emanated from Michael's mouth, nose, and eyes as what little remained of Lucifer's power caused Michael's true form to be forcibly ejected from Adam's body. Like Sam had almost a year ago, Adam collapsed to the ground, motionless. 

Things were certainly about to get a lot more interesting.

* * *

The money he handed the cashier was stained with blood.

The little girl sat in the cart (was it bad that he had yet to name her?... or figure out where the hell she had come from?), her bored blue eyes focused on the various confections that lined the check-out lane. While he thanked whatever deity cared to listen that she had _finally_ stopped growing, there was still the matter of how significantly she'd grown in the last several hours. She wasn't human, that much was obvious.

But whatever she was, she was still a child. He might've just killed a young man in cold blood but something... _something_ was keeping him from harming the girl. As this new desire to act upon every impulse that passed through his brain became stronger, he realized that the child could be in very real danger.

When the cashier handed him his receipt, there was something written on it. Upon closer inspection of her chicken scratch, it was revealed to be a name and phone number.

"Have a nice day, sir." The teenage girl looked into his eyes and smiled brightly, all the fear that she had displayed earlier suddenly _gone_. "And your daughter is absolutely adorable, by the way! Hi sweetie!" She waved at the baby, who was paying absolutely no attention to her.

Sam was about to walk off without a word, when a thought occurred to him. Backtracking, he shoved in front of the woman who had begun loading her items onto the conveyor belt. "You have any plans for later tonight... Laurie?" 

"N-No... I'm completely free after five." She licked her lips, eyes trailing down Sam's beautifully built body.

He leaned in close, whispering something in her ear that caused her entire face to flush red.

The woman behind them is cursing now and the little girl turns her vacant stare to her. After only a few seconds of staring into the child's eyes, the woman began to scream. She ran off, leaving her wallet and groceries in line, attempting to put as much distance between her and the child as quickly as possible. Huh. Weird. Sam walked around and looked at the little girl, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. 

Oh well. He had bigger fish to fry - namely, finding a hotel room for the night so he could make good on all the ways he intended to make that girl scream.

 


End file.
